I can hear her in the kitchen. She's not cooking, she's cleaning the already pristine place.
I have a cleaning person. And I make coffee in there, mostly. I've been known to make eggs there, too, on occasion, but those I ended up wearing.
I let her do it, the humming drifts up. It's some song I probably should know but don't.
And I itch to go down there. But she'll just smile like her mouth is full of nails and find an excuse to leave.
I haven't threatened to put her back in the suite, but she is so careful in how she talks to me about her anger that she seems to be waiting for that.
Well...at least she hasn't tried to run.
Fuck. I just don't know how to fix this.
And I fucking hate not being able to hack something.
Anger seems like something that should be hackable.
Flowers do the trick, usually. Not on Lola, though. She'll see right through that.
Sex does it, too. Except Lola won't see it as a way forward. She'll see it as a kink that's been scratched. An urge to be satiated.
Sex as I've treated sex in the past.
I don't fucking like it.
Lyndall pokes her head around the corner and knocks, coming in.
"Knocking only works if you're willing to go away if I don't answer."
"The door is open."
I sigh.
If Lyndall's going to move in with Dad and finish school after Dad gets over whatever hissy fit he's having about the dude he caught her with and her getting kidnapped, then maybe I need a different place.
Only my father could somehow find a way to blame the victim, but that's Dad for you.
As for a new place, there are nice penthouses or townhouses like the family one in Manhattan where Lola went?—
Nope. Not going there.
But I can see separating home and my place of work instead of rolling them all into one. And we've been talking about strengthening our server...
I rub my eyes and look at my sister. "You knocked?"
"You noticed."
"Hard not to when A) I heard it, and B) we just had a conversation about it. So, what's up?"
"I want you to make up with Lola."
Amusement, dark and slightly resentful, slides through me, and I consider her. "We're not together, we weren't together, so there's no making up."
And I'm not the one who started the war.
That was Lola.
"Oh, sure. You'll bone someone but not fix things when I know you like her." Her eyes get laser-sharp on me. "All those pictures freaked her out. And she likes you."
